Saving Fish from Drowning - Heal Burma

AMY TAN
we ever talked about. I would have to guess that she wasn’t devout
about anything in particular. You know how it is. I’m a lapsed Bap­
tist on my mother’s side. Are you familiar with them?”
“Quite. Many a Baptist missionary has come through Burma.
They were successful in recruiting many converts, particularly the
hill-tribe people.”
“No kidding. Is that how you learned your English?”
“I grew up with English spoken in the home, along with Burmese.
It was part of our inheritance.”
“How do you inherit English?”
“My family has spoken English for generations. My great-great­
grandparents worked for the British Raj, and later generations of my
family found employment with missionaries, but English was al­
ready their public parlance.”
“Well, you speak it beautifully.”
“You’re too kind. And thank you for answering my questions
about Miss Bibi. I appreciate your frank answers on this difficult
subject. And now I won’t interrupt your rest any longer.”
“No problem. If you have any other questions, fire away.” Bennie
settled back and closed his eyes.
Walter stared out the window. He mused: In the last five genera­
tions of his family, all had had reasons to use English as part of their
work. And at least one person in each generation before his had died
as a consequence. English was their inheritance, the purveyor of op­
portunities. But it was also their curse.
WALTER ’ S GREAT- GREAT- GRANDFATHER had learned English as
a lad when he did chores for a British teacher who ran a one-room
school for colonial boys in Mandalay. As he went about sweeping in
the courtyard, he listened to the voices of the teacher and his pupils
floating out the windows. Later, he would trace the words written on
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